


i've had some time alone

by ShyAudacity



Series: Riverdale Prompt Fills [20]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie Andrews Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foster Care, Fred Andrews Centric, Fred Needs a Hug, Good Parent Fred Andrews, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, Other, Past Character Death, Prompt Fill, Widowed, how is that not already a tag, im v happy about this, theres more stuff but i dont want to give it all away in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 13:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13859037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: A week and a half after his paperwork goes through, Fred’s landline rings and an hour later a brown-eyed, red-haired, twelve-year-old Archie is standing on his front porch.Well, Fred thinks to himself, I guess there’s no turning back now.Fred orders a pizza and Archie barely says more than forty words the entire night. By the time eight o’clock rolled around, both of them retreated to their rooms for the night, tired of sitting in silence. He’d tried- and failed- not to get his hopes up for how this night would go.The next morning, Fred wakes up at six in the morning, goes downstairs to put on a pot of coffee and notices that the back door is ajar. Poking his head out, he sees Archie sitting cross-legged in the sun, back to the house, and just watching the sun come up.Fred decides that he likes him already.ORanon said: I dont know if this is something you'd be interested in writing, but prompt where Archie is a troubled foster kid and Fred never had kids despite always wanting them (or maybe always planned to foster) and he adopts Archie and at first Archie is really difficult but Fred loves him so much and Archie finally feels taken care of and loved??





	i've had some time alone

**Author's Note:**

> I tweaked the prompt a little bit but this is hands down one of my favorite things that I've ever had the pleasure to write.
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from Jesus Christ by Brand New.

Fred Andrews is forty-two years old when he decides he wants to be a foster parent.

He’d been telling himself for years now that he would do it, but always found a reason not to. There always something with the house that needed to be fixed or he was too swamped with work at the construction site. Then one morning, in the middle of July, he looked around at his empty house and thought: _why not? There’s nothing stopping me._

A week and a half after his paperwork goes through, Fred’s landline rings and an hour later a brown-eyed, red-haired, twelve-year-old Archie is standing on his front porch.

 _Well_ , Fred thinks to himself, _I guess there’s no turning back now._

His social worker doesn’t stay more than twenty minutes, just long enough to make sure that Archie actually has somewhere safe to sleep. She gives Fred her business card and tells him to call if he has any questions, but does not seem at all enthused at the idea of hearing from him.

Fred orders a pizza and Archie barely says more than forty words the entire night. By the time eight o’clock rolled around, both of them retreated to their rooms for the night, tired of sitting in silence. He’d tried- and failed- not to get his hopes up for how this night would go.  

The next morning, Fred wakes up at six in the morning, goes downstairs to put on a pot of coffee and notices that the back door is ajar. Poking his head out, he sees Archie sitting cross-legged in the sun, back to the house, and just watching the sun come up.

Fred decides that he likes him already.

***

Things are rocky from the get-go. Archie doesn’t talk much, when he does it’s all monosyllabic sentences that barely reach the cusp of conversation. Fred tries to get him to open up, but he doesn’t want to push, to make the poor kid uncomfortable.

All he knows is from what the social worker said. She told him is that Archie’s mother died when he was ten and his father has been out of the picture since well before then. Fred can’t imagine losing so much at such a young age.

School is a struggle in itself. Archie detests homework, hates it with a passion. He’s been in school for three weeks and Fred already has six emails about how Archie hasn’t completed any of his work. Every time that Fred offers to help him with homework, Archie puts up a fight about it, refuses to try. It’s not long before trying to do homework turns into an all-out war.

“I don’t understand why you’re making me do this,” Archie grumbles. “None of it matters anyway.”

“Your education is important, Archie. You just gotta work at it, alright? Now, we’re gonna sit here until it’s finished; the sooner you start the sooner you’re finished.”

Archie crosses his arms over his chest, sinking into his chair.

“Asshole.”

All the hairs on Fred’s arm stand on end.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

Archie pushes away from the table, briskly leaving the kitchen and stomping up to his room.

“Hey- you don’t- Archie, come back here!”

Fred follows him in a quick haste, arriving just in time for the door to slam in his face. Sighing deeply, he lets his head thump against the door. He stands there for a minute, kicking himself for letting this happen. Then, he gets an idea. He goes downstairs retrieves Archie’s backpack, then makes himself comfortable on the floor, back against the door.

“Look, kiddo, I’m sorry for getting mad. I know you don’t like it but you gotta do your homework. It may not seem important now, but it’s going to help you later in life when you get to college. So, just- please, _please_ just try and do your homework for me? I promise won't yell anymore, just- humor me, alright?”

It’s not long before Archie slides a note underneath the door.

 _I’m not mad. Can we talk abuot this tommorrow?_  

Fred feels slightly relieved, enough that he finally gets up, then goes to the kitchen and cracks open a beer. He can’t help but smile ten minutes later when he hears the door to Archie’s room open, the unmistakable sound of a book bag being dragged across the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, Fred stares at the letter Archie slid under the door. There’s something familiar about the messy curve of the letters, the misspelling. It reminds him of his brother, Oscar, how he always struggled with school, especially English. 

Fred makes a call to Archie’s case worker, is unsurprised when she reads him his file and says that Archie is diagnosed with dyslexia. The next morning, Fred makes a phone call to his neighbor down the street who used to be a teacher. He asks if she’d be willing to come over a couple times a week to help Archie with his school work until they can figure something out with his teachers at school.

His grades pick up after that, Archie starts doing his homework without having to be asked, and Fred counts it as a win.

***

They’re cleaning up the living room. Fred had people from work coming over for dinner and lord knows when he last dusted around here. He’s fluffing the pillows on the couch when out of the corner of his eye he sees Archie pick up a photograph.

“Who is this?” He asks.

Fred doesn’t have to look to know what he’s talking about. It’s the one from Mary’s thirtieth birthday, when all of them went to the town carnival for the first time. She’s holding Erin on her hip, the blonde two-year-old in the midst of a giggle while Mary looks at her adoringly. That photo hasn’t left the side table in years, even if it still hurts him to look at it. He looks over his shoulder, pays attention to how closely Archie is studying the photo.

“That’s my wife, Mary, and my daughter,” Fred says, a lump growing in his throat.

Archie sets the photo down carefully after a minute, and Fred is so relieved when he doesn’t ask why they aren’t here. 

***

The first time that Jughead comes over it’s like watching a young FP Jones walk into his house. it reminds Fred of so many Saturday’s in middle school, so many summer nights spent camping out in the backyard, just staring up at the sky.

Archie and Jughead are fast friends, worked on a school project together and are as thick as thieves after that. When Fred comes to drop Archie off for the first time, FP’s eye just about pop out of his head.

Fred realized he’d failed to mention that he’s been fostering a teenager for the last two months. The two of them catch up for the first time in forever, and Fred starts to realize how much he missed this, missed having friends around him.

“It’s good to see you, Freddie,” FP says before he goes back into the house, clapping Fred on the shoulder.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks to himself, _it’s good to feel like myself again._

All four of them spend the last weekend in September building a tree house in the Jones’ backyard, and it’s the best that he’s felt in years.

***

The nightmares are something that Fred is unaccustomed to, at least when someone else is having them, that is.

He’s heard Archie having them a handful of times now, it’s hard not to when their rooms are only six feet away. Fred hasn’t said anything about them to the poor kid, doesn’t want to push him into talking about a touchy subject.

One night, it gets to the point where he can’t ignore them anymore, where Archie’s near screaming is making him sick to his stomach. Fred opens the door to Archie’s room, noticing how he is jerking under the covers. Carefully, he settles his hand on Archie’s shoulder, shaking him lightly until he rouses with a small gasp.

He pulls away from Fred on instinct, sitting up.

“Hey. Hey, Arch, it’s just me, it’s just Fred.”

Archie blinks a couple of times, coming back to his senses.

“Are you okay?”

Archie nods, not meeting Fred’s eye.

Fred doesn’t call him out on the obvious lie, it’s not his place, not yet at least.

“Alright, well- I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

He’s halfway to the door when Archie stops him.

“Would you, um-.” He chokes. “Would you stay until I fall asleep? Please?”

The vulnerable look on Archie’s face makes Fred’s heart ache in a way it hasn’t in years.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

Archie rolls over onto his side, faced away from him, and Fred sits at the edge of the bed, one of his hand on Archie’s shoulder, his thumb moving ever so slightly.

Fred stays until well after he has fallen asleep. He stays until he’s sure that Archie’s okay, until he’s ready to leave.

He doesn’t realize it then, but it’s the first time that they begin to understand each other.

***

One day, eight months into Archie living with Fred, they’re at the hardware store. Fred is picking up somethings so that he can fix the window in Archie’s room that won't open. He comes out to the truck after checking out and Archie is no longer waiting for him in the front seat. He panics for only a second before looking up and realizing that Archie is ten feet away, staring into one of the other shops.

It isn’t until he gets closer that he realizes that it’s the pet store.

“Hey, Arch.” He calls, watching Archie’s head whip in his direction. “C’mon, we should get going.”

Archie spares another long glance inside the store before climbing into the front seat.

In the car, Fred looks over at Archie a couple of times before finally asking the question that has been on his mind.

“Do you like dogs, Archie?”

He nods. “My last family had one, but she was older so you couldn’t really play with her or stuff like that.”

“Would you like to have a dog someday?”

“Yeah, if I’m lucky enough.”

_I could get a dog._

Fred makes a U-turn at the next intersection.

Archie pulls a confused face.

“I thought we were going back to the house.”

“Change of plans, I was thinking we’d go back to the pet shop.”

Archie gives Fred an excited, almost deer in headlights look.

“Does that sound okay with you?”

He nods like his life depends on it, and Fred shares a grin with him.

“Actually,” Archie interjects. “Could we go to the animal shelter instead? It’s just- I heard once that strays and rescues are less likely to get adopted over puppies and… I don’t know, I think it would just be kind of cool to get a rescue.”

Fred thinks that it’s the best idea that he’s heard all year.

An hour later, they’re walking out of the Animal shelter with a three-year-old, golden Labrador named Vegas trailing at Archie’s heel. Archie calls Jughead as soon as they home, and Fred smiles widely as he listens from the next room.

“Dude, _I got a dog_. You have to come over, how fast can you get here?”

***

It’s been ten years since Fred lost his wife and daughter, and it’s a torrential downpour outside.

Archie is spending the night at Jughead’s, and Fred is fully prepared to wallow by himself for the rest of the night, maybe get a little drunk in the process. He’s in the living room, staring at the photo from the carnival, wishing with everything inside of him that he could go back to that moment, even for just a minute.

He’s just about to crack open a beer when the phone rings in the kitchen. Archie’s voice crackles over the line.

_“Can you come get me?”_

Part of him wants to say no, wants to make the Jones’ take him home instead. He doesn’t like driving when the weather is bad, makes a point to do it as little as possible. On the other hand, something about the way Archie is speaking tells Fred that something isn’t right. Ten minutes later he’s pulling up to the Jones house, throwing open the door as Archie runs to the truck scrambling to get in.

Things are quiet on the drive back; a moving train keeps them stalled less than half a mile from home.

_He doesn’t look sick. Why would Archie call me to come pick him up?_

“Do you wanna tell me why you asked me to come get you?”

Archie shrugs, staring down at where he’s been wringing his hands together.

“I’m gonna need a little more than that this time.”

Archie stares out the window, the red lights from the car in front of them illuminating his features.

“It was raining… when my mom died.”

Fred feels his stomach bottom out.

“She was coming home from a meeting or something and she lost control of the car somehow. She was in a coma for a few days before she-… I wasn’t with her.”

This is the most that Archie has said about his mom in the last year of living with Fred. Given the circumstances, and the fact that he’s been holding in a world of guilt for years, he feels like it’s his turn to speak up.

“I lost my family in a storm, too.”

Archie finally looks over at him. “You did?”

“It was raining, a lot like it is right now, and the car in front of us came to a sudden stop so I swerved. Our car flipped six times before it landed in a ditch. Mary and Erin… they both died from the impact, but I woke up the next morning in a hospital bed. Ten years later and I still think about them every day.”

“How did you deal with it? Losing them, I mean.”

“You know, somedays I’m not sure that I did.” Fred replies, solemnly. It might just be the most honest thing that he’s ever said.

Archie is quiet for a minute before he responds.

“My mom’s name was Erin.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, “I think she would have liked you.”

“Why is that?”

“You guys have the same goofy laugh. Same bad jokes, too.”

Fred chuckles a little, a warm feeling growing in his chest.

“Well,” He states. “If she’s anything like you, I bet that I’d have liked her a lot.”

The train finally passes as the conversation comes to a close. When they get home, Fred forgets about his plans of wallowing, puts the beer in the back of the refrigerator, asks Archie if he wants to watch a movie.

Later, after Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is over and Archie is asleep, Fred sneaks back downstairs to the living room and picks up the photo once again.

“He’s a lot like you, kiddo,” He whispers, looking at his daughter. “He knows how to make people happy.”

***

The new guy Harding is really trying to get himself fired. On his first day, he managed to knock over Fred’s coffee, making a mess of the blueprints for the construction project. Then, he shattered nearly $1000 dollars’ worth of windows trying to move a metal beam by himself.

Now, after dropping a three-pound cement brick on Fred’s hand, he’s seriously considering giving Harding the boot.

Fred’s walking out of the emergency room with a newly casted left hand. As he looks up his eyes land on the waiting room.

Archie is pacing nervously across the floor, Jughead and Mrs. Jones are sitting nearby. He looks over at Fred, his shoulders sagging with relief; Archie nearly knocks Fred over as he barrels into his chest with a hug.

Stunned, Fred doesn’t react immediately; Archie has never really been one for hugs as far as he could tell. It takes him a second, but eventually Fred slings his good arm across his shoulders, moving his hand down Archie’s spine.

“Hey, I’m alright, yeah?” Fred says quietly. “It’s okay, Arch, nothing to worry about.”

Despite the reassurance, the panicked look doesn’t leave Archie’s face. Even after they’ve gotten home, he barely leaves Fred’s side for hours, acting as though something should go wrong if he dares to look away.

***

“Did you take me in because you were lonely?”

“No. I did it because I missed being a dad.”

***

Archie never gets sick as far as Fred can tell. So when the thirteen-year-old mentions having a stomachache and looks a little paler than usual, it’s ultimately a surprise. He doesn’t think much of it, offers to let Archie miss school if he’s still feeling bad in the morning.

Then, at some ungodly hour of the morning, Fred wakes up to the sound of Archie losing his lunch in into the toilet. He’s on his feet in a second, rushing into the bathroom and falling to his knees next to Archie.

Archie, bless his heart, looks like he’s been through the wringer, has obviously been at this for a while. He’s bent over the toilet bowl with a white-knuckle grip on the rim, shaking like a leaf. He’s sweat through his shirt; Fred touches the back of his hand to Archie’s cheek, wincing internally at the heat he feels pouring off of him.

_Jesus Christ, this kid is like a furnace._

Fred holds Archie’s face in his hands, trying to get him to focus.

“Arch? Kiddo, I need you to tell me where it hurts.”

“Side.” He mutters painfully.

Gingerly, Fred splays his hand out against Archie’s stomach, adding pressure towards the right side. When Archie cries out and practically throws himself away from the touch, Fred knows that his suspicions are right.

“Shit, _hey_ , hey Archie, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for doing that- I’m gonna be right back okay?”

Fred has never run downstairs so fast in all his life. He unlocks the front door on the way to the kitchen, then calls for an ambulance. When he gets back to the bathroom, Archie is curled up against the bathtub, arms wrapped around his stomach and still tremoring.

Fred sits as close to him as he can, pulls him close with one arm over his shoulder; Archie lets his head loll into the curve of Fred’s neck.

“The ambulance is gonna be here any minute, alright? They’re gonna take you to the hospital and fix you right up.”

Archie sobers up in a second, stiffens up under his arm.

“No, no I don’t- please don’t make me go to the hospital. I don’t- I don’t need to go, please.”

“Arch, your appendix is about to burst, you have to go.”

Archie whines audibly, curls in on himself as the pain catches up with him again.

A few minutes later, after the paramedics have let themselves in and taken control of the situation, Archie is in the ambulance, strapped onto the gurney and mumbling to himself while Fred tries to keep him calm.

“I don’t- I don’t wanna die.”

“You’re not gonna die, Arch, I promise.”

“Mom did.” He states; it’s the clearest thing he’s said in the last twenty minutes. “Mom went to the hospital and never left.”

Fred doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

Archie passes out somewhere between there and the hospital. Once they arrive, he gets taken to the Operating Room straight away, leaving Fred alone in the waiting room, wondering how he could have let Archie get so sick.

Later, after the surgery is over and Fred has helped himself to a pot of coffee, he watches Archie’s eyes flutter open, glazed over more than ever.

He turns his head in Fred’s direction.

“Dad?”

 _It’s just the drugs,_ he tells himself, _Archie can’t possibly be in his right mind right now, I doubt he even knows where he is._ Not knowing what else to do, he goes along with it.

“Hey, kid.”

“Why’d you leave me?”

Fred sputters.

“I-I’m sorry- I didn’t- I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry.”

Archie’s face scrunches up, tries to curl onto his side. He reaches around blindly until he finds Fred’s hand, pulling it closer to him.

“I missed you. I missed you s’much.”

“Go back to sleep, kiddo, you need your rest.” Fred says, running his hand over Archie’s head. Archie nods into the pillow, then falls asleep in a second, still holding Fred’s hand against his chest.

“Who could possibly leave behind such a good kid?” Fred asks out loud to himself.

Archie wakes up a while later, looks at Fred a little funny, but does not say anything about it.

***

Archie doesn’t even look up from his phone as he comes into the kitchen.

“Dad, can Jughead come over?”

That’s all it takes to turn Fred into a dopey, heart warmed mess. He’s so caught off guard that he forgets to answer the question until Archie repeats himself.

“Y-Yeah, sure, Arch, of course he can.”

It’s taking everything in him not to cry.

Archie looks at him funny as he walks out of the room.

“Old people are weird.”

“I heard that!”

“ _You were supposed to!_ ”

In the morning, after he’s just gotten done making the boys pancakes, he overhears Jughead and Archie talking in the kitchen.

“Your dad is the best.” Jughead states.

“Yeah, I know.”

***

Fred’s in the kitchen trying to decide what they’re going to do for dinner when Archie walks in, nervously wringing his hands together.

“Hey, Arch, what’s-?”

“Would you adopt me?”

Fred’s head whips up so fast that he hears his neck crack in two places. Archie is biting his lip, like he’s afraid that Fred is going to say no.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, absolutely kiddo.”

Archie lets out a shaky breath, looking overjoyed. He comes forward, bringing Fred in for a hug. Both of them squeeze tightly, knowing that this is a moment that they’d never forget.

***

Adopting Archie is harder than Fred thought that it would be. It takes two weeks for his social worker to get the paperwork to him. Then, there’s the matter of tracking down Archie’s father.

Lyle Sutton is in Greendale Penitentiary on a drug charge, hasn’t had any communication with his son since he got put into foster care, that’s all the information that Fred can find. He schedules a meeting for a Tuesday afternoon, leaves work an hour earlier than he needs to out of pure nerves. Fred grows more and more anxious the closer he gets, has to take a deep breath before he walks inside.

_Please, please let something good come out of this day._

For some reason, he wasn’t expecting Lyle to look so much like Archie, or so young. He can’t be much older than 35, it makes Fred wonder how old he was when he got into this mess.

Lyle looks eight kinds of confused when he sits down across from Fred.

“Do I know you?”

“My name is Fred Andrews, I’ve been fostering your son Archie for the last two and a half years.”

Lyle stiffens up, bites his lip and looks away.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Fred inquires. “When was the last time that you saw him?”

He shrugs, “Six, maybe seven years ago? What’s it matter to you?”

“I’m just curious as to how someone could do that, how could you just abandon your kid?”

“I didn’t abandon him, _I went to jail_. You know why? Because I was dealing drugs. I’d already put him and his mom through enough, I wasn’t about to make it worse by showing him this. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Fred’s beginning to understand now; Lyle was only trying to do what he thought was best for his kid, trying to protect him.

“What do you want?” He spits. “Why are you here?”

Fred pulls the papers out of his inside pocket, slaps them down onto the table.

“I want to adopt Archie, and I need you to sign your rights away.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“For the same reason that you didn’t stay in contact with him in the first place, to let him start over. Give your kid a second chance… _please_.”

Lyle glares at him for a long moment before begrudgingly reaching for the papers, signing them hastily, then getting up from the table, asking the guard to take him back to his cell.

Fred has never been so excited to get home; Archie cries that night when Fred shows him the papers. When Fred asks why he says:

“I’m just so glad that this is how my life turned out. I can’t imagine you not being my dad.”

***

Things were going well as far as Fred could tell, work was good and Archie was excelling in school, had taken up a love for music. Then, two weeks after Archie’s sixteenth birthday, three days before they’re supposed to go to court to get the adoption finalized, Archie runs away.

Fred goes in to wake him up in the morning and he’s just _gone_. Half of his drawers have been cleared out, the duffle bag he’d first arrived with is no longer on the top shelf of the closet. Fred knows that he should call the social worker, or Sheriff Keller at the least, but he doesn’t want to get Archie in trouble. Getting his son sent to juvie is the last thing that he wants.

He tries to think of all the places that Archie would go. Jughead’s house is too obvious, that’s the first place that anyone would look. He can’t be at school because it’s spring break. Pop Tate would have called him if Archie showed, where could this kid possibly be? A thought comes to him out of left field.

_Chicago, he always talked about wanting to go there._

Fred barely remembers to put his shoes on before he runs to the truck, speeding off towards the bus station.

Archie is sitting there with his head in his hands, bag at his feet. He looks up, then tries to find a way to escape without Fred seeing him, but Fred is standing in front of the only door. 

“Do you wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

Archie shrugs, doesn’t meet his eye; Fred sputters.

“Why? Why would you wanna leave right before-?”

“I’m gay.” He blurts out, looking as panicked as he did the day that he moved in.

Fred doesn’t know what to do first: hug him or say that he loves him.

“Oh… oh kiddo, that’s- c’mere.” He says gently, holding his arms out, waiting for Archie to come to him.

Archie hesitates for a full two seconds before he walks into Fred’s open embrace, hooking his chin over the older man’s shoulder. When he begins to shake, Fred holds on tighter, trying to calm his son in the midst of his crying. His voice was muffled by Fred’s shirt; Archie kept stumbling over his words, repeating: _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t want to. I wasn’t-._

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I know. I’m not mad, I promise.”

He can practically feel the relief coming off of Archie’s body. They continue hugging for another minute, ignore the concerned glances that the woman behind the desk is giving them.

Archie wipes his eyes as he pulls away, and Fred laughs just a little as he asks:

“Is it Jughead?”

Archie gapes at him, “Is it that obvious?”

Fred laughs again, squeezes Archie’s shoulders before he ushers him out the door and to the truck.

Opposed to getting mad or just ignoring what happened, the two of them go Pop’s, talk things over, make sure that they’re on the same page before they stand in front of a judge in a few days. It’s a relief to each of them, especially Archie, to have everything out in the open, to feel like he no longer has to hide a part of himself away.

As they pull up to the house, Fred thinks to himself: _This is what it feels like to have a happy ending. Thank god that the wait is finally over._

He can’t remember the last time that he was so full of joy; he’s so delighted, so _ready_ to see where life is going to take him next.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll come back and make edits later.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a prompt/kudos/comment if you wanna (it's both encouraged and appreciated). You can find me on tumblr as archieandrewsprotectionsquad. Have a great day!


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